


only you can ease my mind

by sunkissedstar



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Gen, Kid Fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and what about it?, or at least mentions of it, yes the title's from a ben platt song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkissedstar/pseuds/sunkissedstar
Summary: “Here, take a pape and go ask that guy if he wants it.” Jack gave Elmer a little push. “And use those puppy eyes,” he called as Elmer started down the sidewalk. “You’re gonna make a fortune with those.”~Elmer and Jack are selling together when the day takes a turn for the worse. Race knows what that's like.





	only you can ease my mind

**Author's Note:**

> YES it's been like four years since i posted and YES i am sorry but i hope that this is good and y'all are cool okay
> 
> by the way they're all kids in this because Jack is kinda seen as being a hot mess around Snyder in the musical but I can imagine it was probably a lot worse when he was a kid and i wanted to write about that
> 
> Jack - 12  
Elmer - 8  
Race - 10
> 
> BOOM enjoy!

Jack heaved out a heavy sigh and spared a glance at the falling sun. 

“C’mon, kid,” he whined, prodding Elmer in the shoulder blades. “You’re takin’ forever.”  
  
“It ain’t even dusk yet!” Elmer said, having no such qualms about the time of day. He was taking his sweet time getting through his stack of papers, and at this point, Jack was sure he was just doing it to be obnoxious. “You only just finished!”

“Yeah, because I’m young, which means you should be done a lot sooner,” Jack said. “You’re tiny. People usually throw money at you.”

“I can’t read the headlines!” Elmer said, flipping a page and holding it up to Jack’s face to prove his point. “The words are too long, and the letters keep movin’ around. They all look the same.”

Usually, Jack would say something about how a kid not knowing how to read should sell even better, make people feel sorry for him, but Elmer looked so frustrated that he didn’t bring it up.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Just make somethin’ up and keep the paper folded while you’re sellin’ it.” He squatted down to Elmer’s level, scanning the streets for a customer, and his eyes landed on a broad man with his back to them. “Here, take that pape and go ask that guy if he wants it.” He gave Elmer a little push. “And use those puppy eyes,” he called as Elmer started down the sidewalk. “You’re gonna make a fortune with those.”

While Elmer was off making his fortune, Jack leaned up against a brick building and tucked his cap over his eyes. The sun had almost completely set, shrouding the city in pinks and oranges that painted the sky. He’d expected as much when he’d offered to sell with Elmer, but he’d still hoped he’d be home in time to play a couple games of poker. 

Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he pulled the hat off his eyes. Elmer stood there, still holding his paper, and Jack suppressed another sigh. 

“No dice?”

“Uh, no,” Elmer said. He looked a little confused, and rubbed his head as he looked back down the sidewalk towards the man Jack had sent him to. “When I asked him, he took the paper and hit me on the head with it. Threw it back down by my feet and told me not to ask again unless I was lookin’ for trouble.”

“What?” Jack said, frowning. “Jeez, kid, think you got the worst customer on the streets. Who was…” He trailed off as he followed Elmer’s eyes to the man, who had turned around and was coming down the sidewalk in their direction. He wore a hat low over his eyes, a drab gray suit, and he spit in the road as he walked. Suddenly, the man’s threat of trouble for Elmer made sense, and flashes of the Refuge and overcrowded bunks raced through his mind. 

“Shit,” Jack breathed, feeling his limbs stiffen. The ground seemed to sway under his feet as his head spun, the beginnings of panic creeping into the corners of his vision.  _ Shit, that’s Snyder. _

“Shit,” Elmer said. The parroting broke Jack out of his stupor, and he took an involuntary step back as he regained control of his feet. Snyder’s cold eyes were roaming as he walked, and Jack guessed they had about ten seconds before they had to start running. 

“No, no,” Jack said, not breaking his gaze away from Snyder until he was kneeling at Elmer’s level. “Don’t repeat that word. C’mon.” He grabbed Elmer’s wrist and gestured impatiently for him to get on his back. “We don’t got all day, kid.”

Elmer must have picked up that something was wrong, and he wasted no time in dragging his feet before he was clinging to Jack’s shoulders and Jack had his arms hooked under his knees. The second he was secure, Jack turned on his heel and booked it down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. He couldn’t break into a full sprint, there were too many people to weave around, but he figured if he and Elmer could lose themselves in the crowd and hide, that would be just as good.

“Where’re we goin’?” Elmer said loudly, despite his head being tucked directly against Jack’s ear. 

“Somewhere else,” Jack said, not really hearing the question.  _ Get away,  _ his head was screaming, compelling his legs to go faster, for his heart to keep pounding, for his hands to stay tightly fastened to Elmer’s legs.  _ Hurry, there’s no time, he’s coming, you’re goin’ back to hell if you don’t hurry. Go! _

He let the voice take over, let it occupy every inch and crevice of his mind. By the time he crashed through the lodging house door, his legs were burning and he was only being fueled by the adrenaline rush coursing through his veins.

It was Elmer, still clinging to Jack’s shoulders like his life depended on it, that heard Race calling from what felt like a million miles away. 

“… goin’ on? Jack! Hey, Kelly, you look like you just ran from Brooklyn. What’s goin’ on?”

Race was about six inches from his face when the panic clouding Jack’s vision faded to a dull, hazy mist. Race's eyes were shining with concern and unanswered questions. Jack was still processing the familiar face when he realized Race was still talking, this time to someone over Jack’s shoulder. 

“... should take him,” Race was saying, “I dunno how the hell Jack’s still holdin’ onto him, looks like he’s gonna fall over.”

Jack felt Elmer’s weight shift on his back, and he reeled around, suddenly finding a reason to rid himself of the distant confusion and panic he’d felt for the last half hour. 

“Don’t _ touch _ him!” he snapped, digging his nails into Elmer’s trousers. Another familiar face was looking at him, hands raised in an innocent offer of peace, and Jack was almost embarrassed that it took him a full ten seconds to work out that it was one of the older girls, Robin, staring back at him, a look of confusion on her face that rivaled Race’s. 

“Woah, kid, it’s okay,” she said placatingly, hands still up. You’d think he’d threatened to murder her, but then again, he’d been told his glare was a strong one for a twelve-year-old. “I’m just takin’ Elmer off your hands. Lord knows he can be a handful, and you look like you’ve had enough for one day.”

“I heard that!” Elmer said, kicking his feet against Jack's sides. “I ain’t dumb."

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin muttered, making a face at Jack in an attempt to cheer him up. It wasn't working. “C’mon, Elm, I think Smalls took your hat again. I told you not to leave it this morning.”

She lifted Elmer up under the arms and nodded over Jack’s head. “You got him, Race?”

“Roger that.”

Without another word, Robin carried Elmer upstairs, chattering about anything under the sun, and left Race and Jack alone. 

“So…” Race awkwardly rocked on his feet, kicking a stray pebble. Jack watched it skitter across the floor until it disappeared between two loose floorboards. “Are you okay?”

It was a stupid question and they both knew it. Instead of answering, Jack kept his eyes glued to the spot the pebble had landed. 

He heard Race sigh, and someone took his arm, but he didn’t even bother to pull away. Before he could process what was happening, he was being led upstairs past the bunk rooms, to the window, onto the fire escape, and up the ladder to the roof. It was such a familiar path that his feet moved by themselves, taking him to his safe haven above the noise and chaos of the city. 

Race pushed something into his hands, and Jack looked down at his lap disinterestedly. It was his sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, both of which had been gifts from Medda. 

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me,” Race said quietly, sitting on the ground as Jack continued to stare blankly at the paper like he didn’t know what to do with it. “Trust me, most of the time, I wouldn’t wanna talk to me either. But I don’t get the feelin’ you wanna be alone, so I’ll just stay here.”

And that’s exactly what they did. It took ten minutes for Jack to pick up the pencil, and another five before he put it on the paper, letting it hover in the air as his brain worked through the day. Race sat patiently, his eyes flickering between the empty sketchbook and the New York skyline. 

“It was Snyder,” Jack said after almost half an hour of silence. His pencil was trailing across the paper with no real destination. “I… I couldn’t see his face, and I told Elmer to go sell a paper to him, and he came runnin’ back when Snyder hit him over the head.”

A flicker of guilt rumbled deep in his stomach, and the devil on his shoulder whispered that it would have been his fault, all his fault if Snyder had decided to grab Elmer right then and there.

“Did he see you?”

Jack had almost forgotten Race was listening. “Nah,” he said. “Least, I don’t think so.”

“‘S good,” Race muttered, tipping his head back against the railing. “... I don’t blame you,” he said after a long moment where Race watched the moon and Jack watched his pencil make another line across the page. “For runnin’, I mean. I would’ve done the same.”

Jack scoffed, his first attempt at any sort of humor in what felt like years. A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, and he turned his pencil on its side to shade in a curl. “I sure hope so, kid,” he said. “I taught you that.”

“Yeah,” Race said, a brief flash of hope in his eyes as Jack’s lips threatened to turn into a grin. “But you ain’t a very good teacher if it took you that long to get Elmer done with sellin’.”

“Hey, kid can take care of himself,” Jack said, nudging Race’s shoulder. He’d just finished with an eye on his paper, and carefully set to work on the other one. “He just needs me when he gets distracted and nearly walks into the street.”

“You say that now,” Race said. “But where were you when I was his age and you said you’d kill me if I tried sellin’ on my own again?”   
  
“I was there,” Jack said, “sayin’ I’d kill you. Duh. You’re barely old enough to sell without one’a the older ones, so don’t start talkin’, punk.”

Race shoved him back, and the sense of normalcy was there. The kind where Jack could pretend he didn’t have tears drying on his cheeks that he hadn’t realized were falling on the way home. The kind where his fingers weren’t burning from gripping his pencil tight enough to break it in half, the kind where Robin hadn’t looked at him like  _ he _ would break in half.

For now, everything was okay, and when Jack finally set his pencil down, Race was asleep on his shoulder. And that felt even more okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> WOO we stan some boys 
> 
> lowkey i know the newsies fandom is slowing down a little but it's the only fandom i have the guts to write for at the moment so we'll see where that goes
> 
> have an amazing day :)


End file.
